48 The Spanish Headsman. 



" You weep, my Marquirita, my sister," And, verily, the voice of 

 Juanito seemed as a voice from the tomb, as again he lifted the scimetar. 



" It is for you, dear brother," she answered. " Poor, poor, Juanito ! 

 you will be without us all, alone, and so unhappy." 



The tall commanding figure of the Marquis now approached. He 

 looked on his children's blood, and then turning towards the assembled 

 Spaniards, and stretching forth his arms over Juanito, exclaimed in a 

 loud and resolute tone of voice, "Spaniards, hear me ! A father's blessing 

 I give unto my son ; may it ever rest on and with him ! His is the post 

 of duty. Now, Marquis of Ltganes, strike firm and surely, for thou art 

 without reproach ! " 



But when Juanito saw his mother approach, supported by the con- 

 fessor the scimetar struck heavily against the earth, as he shrieked in 

 bitterest agony " Mother! God! God! It is too much She bore 

 she nourished me. Blood ! and my mother's blood ! " A cry of 

 horror burst from all around. The bacchanalian orgies within the castle 

 were at once ended. 



The Marchioness, sensible that the strength arid courage of her son 

 had fled, cast one glance, and one only, at the scene at her feet j and then, 

 aged as she was, leaped the terrace balustrade, and disappeared. As she 

 fell upon the rocks beneath, the reeking instrument of death dropped 

 from the hand of Juanito. His eyes flashed an almost maniac fire. A 

 low gurgling sound, like a death-greeting, broke from his livid lips, life 

 seemed to forsake his limbs and he sunk senseless upon the ground, 

 beside the beloved beings who had fallen by his hand. 



Notwithstanding the unlimited respect and high honours accorded by his 

 sovereign to the Marquis de Leganes notwithstanding the title of El 

 Verdugo, by which his ancient and noble name has been rendered yet 

 more illustrious, the Marquis now lives an almost heart-broken and 

 solitary man. The birth of an heir to his name and fortune (an event 

 which, unhappily, deprived her who bore him of existence,) had been im- 

 patiently awaited by him, and as his son saw the light, the father felt it 

 was now his privilege, in Heaven's own time, to join that troop of 

 shadows, that are ever with him and around him. With these, in his 

 long hours of solitude, he holds strange discourse : and if he ever smile, 

 it is when he points out his sleeping boy to those unseen beings unseen 

 by all save himself and swears by its innocent head, and by the genera- 

 tions yet unborn, an eternal enmity to France and to her children. 



